Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from New Zealand and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing PIL to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Can,
48th St. Collective,
Stetsasonic,
The Velvet Underground,
The Wake,
Cheater Slicks,
Rapeman,
Fad Gadget,
John Lydon,
Ossler,
Babytalk,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pylon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Fugazi,
The Slackers,
The Durutti Column,
Stereo Dub,
Public Image Ltd.,
Byron Stingily,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gerry Rafferty,
Isaac Hayes,
Henry Cow,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gabor Szabo,
David Axelrod,
Cecil Taylor,
Bang On A Can,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Sonics,
The Mummies,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
F. McDonald,
Ralphi Rosario,
the Association,
Lakeside,
Pierre Henry,
The Kinks,
Moby Grape,
Marc Almond,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Saints,
Pagans,
Echospace,
Icehouse,
Tomorrow,
The Cowsills,
Ludus,
Ice-T,
Scan 7,
Yaz,
Pussy Galore,
Gastr Del Sol,
X-Ray Spex,
Amon Düül,
Ornette Coleman,
ABBA,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.